


Companion

by yeaka



Category: The Eagle | The Eagle of the Ninth (2011)
Genre: Ficlet, M/M, Submission
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-30
Updated: 2014-12-30
Packaged: 2018-03-04 10:16:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3064145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Back home, Marcus admits he doesn’t feel so out of place at Esca’s feet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Companion

**Author's Note:**

  * For [abbeyjewel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/abbeyjewel/gifts).



> A/N: This isn't historically accurate. Happy Holidays, Abbeyjewel! You know I love you~ 
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Eagle or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

By the time they reach his uncle’s house, they’re both exhausted, and it shows in the subtle slump of Esca’s usually strong stance. Delivering the Eagle took less time than expected—probably because Marcus stormed out after the rude treatment of his partner—but the aftermath was more involved; the paperwork and certificates of making Esca truly _free_. Marcus was promised a reward, of course, but right now, money seems to have little value. He’s spent too long sleeping under the stars on a battered leg under fear of death, and all he really wants is a roof he can trust. Word’s reached his uncle before them, and Stephanos is waiting to take their tired horses. 

The greetings take another few hours—they’re offered a generous meal, and Marcus’ uncle wants to hear the whole story again, first hand, with all the details the rumours have left out. Marcus still leaves out certain things—particularly his role at Esca’s feet, the parts where he was bound by the seal people and had his throat bared to them. He makes no mention of tending to horses or nets or menial work like gutting fish. It isn’t that there’s any shame in it; lord knows Esca’s done it all for him. It’s that Marcus didn’t fight for his proper place as well as he should’ve. He didn’t think to steal away in the night with the Eagle, didn’t think to stop and ask for his father’s men, trusted Esca too long without thinking of all the damage Rome had done him. Marcus couldn’t have done _anything_ without Esca, and he doesn’t want to admit to family how well he fit playing slave to his former property. Esca is kind to him and doesn’t reveal the parts Marcus leaves out. Esca says very little through dinner, though the weight off his shoulders is visible. They’re told they can stay for as long as they like, though Marcus has already promised to leave for whatever plans Esca should choose, once they’ve had a chance to recuperate and think.

Marcus’ old room is still open for him, and while Stephanos helps his uncle off, Marcus heads with Esca down the hall. It isn’t until he’s closing the sturdy wooden door behind him that he realizes it was only _his_ room, and the only time Esca ever slept here was curled up in a makeshift cot on the floor. 

He pauses halfway to the bed and turns, looks at Esca’s stiff but tired frame, and he says, “I’m sorry.” He means for not thinking. He should’ve asked for a room for Esca, no matter how close they’ve become on their journey. He shouldn’t just presume that now that they’re back in civilization, Esca will continue to lie with him, huddle close, like they did in the cold hills of the north. But the moonlight pouring through the veranda doors tells him it’s too late to make arrangements, and Esca must know that. 

Esca eyes Marcus’ old bed, freshly made up, and says, “You Romans have such narrow beds.” It’s true, Marcus realizes, now that he really looks at it; hardly built for two. The fact that it’s _his_ hangs unspoken but heavy in the air, and the only other furniture Esca could take are rickety old chairs that aren’t fit for someone so beautiful. Marcus licks his lips and makes his own decision, half just to test the boundaries. He moves back towards Esca, pleased when Esca looks at him but doesn’t move away. 

It’s so _good_ to have Esca on his side again. They’re closer now than they ever were. He walks as close as he can without molding them into one, and he bends to scoop his arm behind Esca’s legs, the other around Esca’s back. Esca looks surprised but reaches for Marcus’ neck, holding on while Marcus sweeps him up into the air. It isn’t easy with Marcus’ leg still unhealed as it is, but Esca’s lighter than the soldiers Marcus used to carry off the battlefield. And Esca holds onto him, watching his face curiously. 

Marcus places him down on the mattress, lingering as Esca’s hands slowly slide away. Straightening again, Marcus announces, “You take the bed. It’s yours.” Esca’s light eyebrows lift, and Marcus sinks down to the floor, his knees protesting at the hard tile. It’s cold beneath him, but he’s leaning close enough to feel Esca’s warmth, and it’s better than it was beyond the wall. Everything is better, though Marcus would go back in a heartbeat if that’s what Esca wanted. Marcus has to adjust his bad leg beneath him so there isn’t any pressure on it, but otherwise he kneels before Esca and mumbles, “You deserve a proper place to sleep; you aren’t a slave anymore.”

At first, Esca is frowning, but at Marcus’ words, his lips twist into a wry smile. “You aren’t either, Marcus.” Esca says it like that makes them even, though Marcus’ slavery was far shorter, and though he was bound where Esca wasn’t, Esca still never enjoyed a warm bed over him. And unlike Esca, it was no more than Marcus deserved. 

He shifts on his knees, considers his reply, and somehow winds up admitting, very quietly, “I didn’t mind that so much.” At least, not nearly as much as he should’ve. He shakes his head at the inaccuracy and tries to explain, “I mean to say that I didn’t find submitting to you such an unpleasant thing. It’s just that the circumstances... the seal prince and the rope and not knowing what was going on... that was difficult.”

“So you would’ve knelt for me before that?” Esca asks, his tone disbelieving, even though Marcus is doing it now. Marcus nods and lifts higher—he dares to place his hand on Esca’s knee. They touched so _much_ on their journey, but they had the excuse of seeking warmth and a lack of any other company. Now there’s a gravity to it, but the safe environment only cultivates what Marcus knew he felt; he doesn’t mind this; he could _enjoy_ this. 

He decides: “If that were to make you happy, yes. ...I might not have at the seal camp, as you looked at me so... coldly.” His throat constricts even as he says it, the memory of the anger in Esca’s eyes cutting him like a knife. “I was sure I’d ruined everything and lost you. ...But if you wanted me, if you smiled at me when you had me on my knees for you, I would gladly belong to you.” _Belong_. He didn’t mean to go quite so far, but once the words have left Marcus’ lips, he can’t seem to take them back. Esca looks at him, quiet but not unhappy. Marcus’ breath catches under the scrutiny; he subconsciously puffs up his chest, presenting himself like this: strong and ready but glad to give up his bed, his place as master, anything Esca should like. Esca seems thoughtful. 

Then Esca reaches out a hand, fingers splayed, and brushes them along Marcus’ cheek. Marcus leans into the touch, eyes falling closed. He has to stop himself from making a crooning noise. Esca’s thumb sweeps along his cheekbone, palm catching in his stubble, slipping back into his hair. Esca brushes through it and pets Marcus, not unlike a horse or a dog. But it feels good to receive that kind of attention, gentle and affectionate. Marcus gives in to Esca’s stroking, until Esca murmurs, “ _Good boy._ ”

Marcus’ eyelids lift halfway, and Esca’s cheeks are slightly flushed, blue eyes dark and a little dilated. He practically purrs, “My good little Roman,” and sweeps all of Marcus’ bangs off his forehead. Marcus lets his head be tugged back, his throat exposed, and then he leans to kiss Esca’s palm as it retreats again, stroking all over Marcus’ face and hair. It seems Esca has thought of this too, Marcus submitting, missed their touching, too, and Marcus is inexplicably grateful that he didn’t imagine the closeness that formed between them. Esca’s hand finally drifts below Marcus’ chin, cups his jaw, and Esca asks, “How long would you kneel for me?”

 _Forever_ , Marcus thinks, though he knows it isn’t wise to say. A beaten Briton like Esca might revel in that too much, crushing down a Roman. He can already see the flicker of excitement in Esca’s face beyond the gentle touches. It’s something they’ll have to discuss, have to explore, Marcus supposes, but for now, he betrays himself to answer, “I would never rise again if it made you happy.” Esca grins broadly like it’s a joke, but he seems to appreciate the gesture. 

He mumbles, “How about just a little while, while I rest?” Marcus nods his head, knowing Esca can feel it as much as see it. Marcus would very much like to climb into the bed too, spoon up to Esca and hold them impossibly tight, but he knows Esca might appreciate this more: this first chance to feel his freedom. It must be the first time in years that he’s had a proper bed to sleep in, and Marcus couldn’t fit without crowding it. Wherever they go, they’ll have to build a larger one. 

For now, Esca stretches out, legs shifting beneath him and wriggling under the sheets, sandals for the house still on and everything. Marcus would offer to undo them, but he can see that Esca’s too tired to care. Esca stretches out along the cot and sighs contentedly, squirming once and looking languid, utterly luxurious. Marcus stays where he is at Esca’s side, delighted that Esca’s hand doesn’t leave him. 

Esca continues to pet him, soft and slower and slower, until Esca’s eyes fall closed and stay that way, muscles finally relaxing. Eventually, his hand slips down Marcus’ chest, and Marcus gathers it in his to kiss the knuckle. He places it back on the bed and adjusts his seat on the floor. Curling against the frame, he sleeps alongside his Esca, having never felt quite so free.


End file.
